


Funeral for a Ghost

by ladyofstardvst



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, blood mention, like a loose happy ya know like Resolved Feelings and Emotions and Fun, this is about the YEARNING and the LONGING and the ANGST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofstardvst/pseuds/ladyofstardvst
Summary: one of those 'my s/o is immortal but he's pushing me away and I Won't Let Him, so we're gonna have a soft moment bc we miss each other' kind of things. takes place during Booker's exile.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Reader
Kudos: 12





	Funeral for a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> lets be real, we knew i would write for him eventually. ugh i love him.

You never wanted to be immortal.

And you weren’t, not really. Some days it would feel as if you’ve lived thousands of lives, an eternity’s worth of memories living inside your head. Locked away where no one could see them, where no one would hear them. They would never see the light of day, not from you, because they were not your stories to tell.

It happened after the accident, of course, because there’s _always_ an accident.

He convinced himself this was the right thing, the _safest_ thing – this newfound distance he insisted upon. There were protocols in place for this _exact reason_ _,_ but it had already been a handful of years since the beginning of his exile. Did he really want to spend the rest of it truly alone? Booker knew the answer to that, knew why he rarely let anyone _know_ him, in the ways that mattered, the ways that were sure to steal his heart some day down the line -

Except.

_Except_.

You. . . you already had his heart. Every last cell belonged to you, something he didn’t even know until you were gone, until all he had left were empty bottles in an empty apartment that missed your laugh, missed your smile just as much as he.

He could never stop the flashes that haunted him when he closed his eyes. He could never be rid of the memories that made his chest tighten with regret every time he thought of you. Illuminated by starlight. Eyes glued to the pages of his favorite novels. With a smile so wide as you found cover from a rainstorm, already soaked to the bone with eyes alight like _you_ were the lucky one. When you looked at him like he was Helios incarnate all golden and celestial and true.

_It was becoming too much_ , he thought, _this history repeating itself._

There was a knock on the door late one afternoon, when the sun began it’s dramatic descent in the west. Deep golden light gilded the world outside his small apartment, ricocheting off glass and steel to blind wandering eyes with that fine line of beauty and pain. It was deepening from blue to violet, smears of burnt orange and vermilion painted against the contrast with vibrant brush strokes that could stop hearts.

Booker froze, gun in hand, until he knew it was you standing in the hallway. He didn’t open the door.

“If I have to wait on these stairs until you break down and leave for more booze, you know I’ll do it.” The shifting shadows under the door gave him away. You heard curses, metal discarded on a table. The door opened, and Booker stood on the other side.

A beat of silence, a moment of eyes staring anywhere other than meeting. Your heart in your throat, his own threatening to stop beating all together. Then, “Can I come in?”

He stepped aside, not trusting words to be anything other than kind, anything other than what he longed to say after the day you watched wounds heal faster than they should have. After you asked questions – _naturally_ – when you were still bleeding and he was not.

Instead, eyes followed as you slid onto the edge of the kitchen table, the last golden rays of the evening clung to you like you commanded them. Like they would follow you anywhere you asked, do anything you wished.

He shook his head, tried to dislodge the thought that had come so easily, because he too, would do the very same if he had the option.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“I’ll bet you have,” he said, unable to hide the beginnings of a smile. It was one you returned all too easily without a second thought.

_God_ , you missed him.

“The world is full of strange things, Book.” your face turned from the window to Booker, his expression perfectly indifferent, perfect trained to give away nothing.

You knew him better than that. It’s why you were there, after all.

“At this point. . . none of it means anything, not anymore. Everyone has their fair share of shit, but I think we owe it to ourselves to keep the good as long as we can. And whatever _this_ ,” you gestured towards him. “– it’s not – nothing is ideal, you know. _Nothing_.” your gaze turned back to the window, back to the safety of the world darkening beyond the glass. “And if you don’t want to tell me anything, then okay.”

_That doesn’t mean you have to discard me from your life,_ you said next, voice quiet in the room grown heavy, filling slowly with a sort of longing you thought only real in stories. This relationship was poised to take one last step off a cliff before tumbling down, down, down to collide with the rocks below.

But Booker took a step towards something familiar, towards someone who may understand, in their own way, because he knew you were keeping secrets of your own.

When your eyes found his, he was in front of you, radiant as the burnished golden light disappeared. Helios had returned to you, if only for another moment of your time. There were no accusations from you, no ill will, no hate in the eyes that met his. It seemed effortless, even after everything he’d invited into your life.

But there was never hate.

He spoke your name the way a sinner pleaded in prayer, and your resolve began to crumble stone by stone. The desire to pull him closer was like a dagger in your chest, twisting, twisting, _twisting_.

Fingertips brushed up your cheek, down your jaw. Breath hitched, eyes fluttered closed. You leaned into his touch without hesitation, without question. He knew you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t truly want to try, weren’t truly open to anything. He knew you well enough.

Booker closed his eyes.

This wasn’t a dream.

He felt himself careen over the edge of that cliff.

Andy’s voice rose in his ears as the rocks grew closer. _We can control how we live. And to be honest, Book – you and I? We’ve been doing a shit job of it. Now get up._

Would you be there to pull him to his feet?

He started small, then grew bolder. The things he had been hiding, things he wanted to whisper in your ear amidst the dark of the night, the blue hour of morning, every answer he could give. It wasn’t his secret to tell entirely, but he kept the damning aspects to himself.

There would never come a day when he could lay himself bare at your feet.

And now, there was no going back.


End file.
